“My goodness, is that Mr. Crell?” Chelsea asked.
“Are you all right, Your Grace?” a maid asked.
“Warren, send for Doyle. Chelsea, see that Meredith is looked at by the doctor. I must…” He took a step forward and his legs gave out beneath him.
“I must…” he repeated slowly as his vision spiraled and the light shrank into darkness.
“Darius!” Meredith tried to catch him as he fell, but he was too heavy. She collapsed with him on the floor. Darius didn’t move.
“Damnation.” Warren cursed as he pushed Darius’s waistcoat and shirt up to examine the bleeding puncture wound on his lower back. Then he noticed the blade on the floor by Crell which gleamed red with Darius’s blood.
“Was he was stabbed?” Meredith nearly choked on the words, terrified by the thought of losing him.
“Don’t give up on him yet,” Warren said as if he could read her thoughts. “It doesn’t look deep. And it looks too low to have pictured a lung, that’s the true danger, that and organs being pierced.
Meredith’s stomach convulsed at the thought of all that could have gone wrong and that Darius wasn’t out of danger.
Chelsea and Frances helped Warren and Meredith get Daruis on Meredith’s bed, laying him on his stomach. Meredith used a wadded up cloth and pressed it hard against the wound to slow the flow of blood.
It took an age for the doctor to arrive. Meredith was forced to get out of the man’s way so he could treat Darius’s wound. Frances held up a lamp for the doctor as he got to work.
Doyle arrived just as the doctor finished stitching up the wound. Warren wasted no time in confronting the man.
“What the devil was he doing here, Doyle? You had him in custody!”
Doyle rubbed a weary hand over his stubble-shadowed jaw. “He escaped.”
“That much is obvious,” Warren countered. “And you didn’t think to tell us? How did he escape?”
“He feigned illness and attacked the guard who entered the cell to check on him. Roberts is a new lad who only just started with us. Almost got himself killed. We’d been scouring the coaching inns of London and the docks, thinking he meant to flee the city. I never imagined he would come back here.”
“The man knew he wouldn’t escape his fate,” said Warren, looking down at the body. “So he set his hopes on revenge.”
Doyle gave Meredith an apologetic look. “I am sorry for all that you suffered, Miss Montague. But it is ended now.”
“Is it?” Meredith whispered. “We’ll never know what became of his wife.”
“I think we might have a chance to find answers still,” Warren said. “His mistress is in the country and so is that blasted butler. They must know at least part of this tragedy.”
“I had that same thought the moment Crell escaped. We are sending men to his country house as we speak.”
The doctor cleared his throat.
“Well?” Warren’s tone went quiet. “How is he?”
“I believe he will live. Tiverton has the devil’s own luck, I will say that much,” said the doctor. “This is the second blade wound which has missed his organs.”
“Devil’s own luck indeed,” Warren said with unconcealed relief. “I shall have to tell the others, but it can wait until morning.”
Meredith knew he meant the other rogues in the square. They would of course want to know what had happened, but he was right. There was no need to wake them if Darius was going to be all right… She prayed that was true as she walked over to Darius’s bed. Warren joined her, putting an arm around her for comfort. Doyle’s men came to remove Crell’s body, but Meredith paid them no attention. Crell was in the past now. Meredith’s future lay here on the bed.
“The wound must be cleaned daily and fresh bandages applied. If it turns angry and swells, send for me at once.” He placed a bottle of laudanum in Meredith’s hand. “One spoon a day for the pain, no more. He’s already had a dose for tonight.”
The doctor left and Meredith sat on a chair that Warren had set beside Darius’s bed. He was breathing evenly now. The white bandages wrapped around his stomach seemed so stark in the dim light.
Frances and Warren checked on her throughout the night to see that she was all right and to beg her to use one of the other beds to sleep. But Meredith refused to leave the room. At last, her weariness was too much for her to fight. She leaned back in the chair to rest…to sleep…
She was once more in the gardens and Mrs. Crell was there. This dream felt different somehow than the first. Mrs. Crell was no longer sitting in that rolling invalid chair. Or was it because she looked somehow younger than before? Happier?
